The Hanging Tree
by Authoress24
Summary: Are you coming to the tree? Oh dear please, wear a necklace of rope. Oh! You'll be side by side with me.


_*I do not own Naruto or "The Hanging Tree" in any way .*_

_**The Hanging Tree**_

It was pouring.

The rain drowned and droned out every speck of light; every speck of happiness. But no–one seemed to mind. No–one seemed to care. No–one despite _her_, that is. The streets were busy – despite the furious rain. Sidewalks were filled as normally. And time seemed to tick by as slowly and painfully as it pleased. Nothing new. Nothing out of line.

But how _wrong_ everything seemed.

How _wrong _everything _was._

_Are you, are you coming to the tree,_

They were in front of a tree. Not just _a_ tree – _their_ tree. Her breath mingled with the cold and merciless air. He breathed no more. His hands were bound up; his throat a tad bit bloody.

_Where they strung up a man – _

She knew _why_ they hung _him_. She just didn't except the fact that they _did_. The short, pink hair that reached her strong, yet incredibly soft shoulders did not blend well with her emotion. Well – maybe one.

_ They say he murdered three._

_He was a murderer. _

_He_ did not deserve to live.

_He _tore everything apart.

_He_ took everything away.

Because of _him_, her beloved _hyper-active, blonde hero_ could no longer save the day.

Because of _him,_ her beloved _black-haired incredibly stoic artist _could no longer paint.

Because of _him,_ her beloved _silver-haired sensei_ no longer had any purpose to be as late as he pleased.

Because of _him_, she no longer had a purpose to live.

_Strange things did happen here – _

_No stranger would it seem._

Before _his _death, before _their_ deaths, before _her_ death – they all agreed to meet by the Willow Tree. They loved coming into the woods. They'd all rest under one specific tree.

They named it – _her_, according to the pink-haired Genin – _Yanagi._ She knew it wasn't original, but she loved the name dearly.

Strange things happened at this tree.

This is where they – the pinkette and the raven – met secretly every day. Sometimes she and the blonde would walk past this tree and take rests. That was a while ago.

They – the blonde, the raven, the pinkette, the artist, and the silvette – took interest in this particular tree after stories upon stories of it. It started out as a mission – but turned into something more.

_Yanagi _– the tree with its – _her_ – colorful and swift patterns of spirals and lines – was no longer a simple tree. It was a symbol.

A symbol of the team that slowly and all the more painfully tore itself apart.

The pinkette should hate this tree. This tree where her love's soul was Hell bound. This is where everything went _horribly wrong_; where everything had felt _so horribly right_. And yet…

_The fact made her love it all the more._

_If we met up at midnight in The Hanging Tree._

_ He_ called out to _her_.

_He,_ whom had the raven hair.

_He,_ whom had the ability to be reborn with the bloodiest eyes one could ever see.

_His_ soul reached out for her, it beckoned for her to come closer.

_It _wanted to desperately hold her and coax her into a _nice long_ _sleep._

_ He _wanted to _– he needed _to_ – _see_ her. _Just once more_._

To_ feel her soft _and _porcelain skin._

_Are you, are you coming to the tree,_

He waited for her.

He knew he did not deserve her – but he hoped with a burning passion that she would comply to him. To his desires. To his love.

He needed her.

Visiting that old willow tree wasn't enough.

She knew it just as well as he.

She just wanted to torture him, as he her.

_Where the dead man called out for his love to flee._

He originally told her to flee – to leave him be.

To go away.

But he knew with every ounce of cold blood in his body. He could predict and bet that she would not flee. She would not leave. She would not go.

For she had made it clear,

That she would stay by his side forever.

Regardless, he continuously told her to flee. Not verbally, but with little signs. Maybe a brush of wind in the other direction, or the grass would steer her feet away from the – _their_ – willow tree.

_Yanagi._

_Strange things did happen here – _

_No stranger would it seem_

The two had seen something they shouldn't have.

But now, it was impossible to take back.

They saw how their friend had slain his own sensei.

Then the blonde had become enraged – they fought.

The raven and the blonde. The artist and the pinkette had tended to their far too gone sensei. The artist could only hold the woman next to him as her emerald crystals blazed and raged with salty tears.

They were all murdered that day.

Though the one with the _crimson eyes_ was the _murderer._

And the one with the _pink hair_ remained _untouched. _

_If we met up at midnight in The Hanging Tree._

She'd visit every day.

Of course she told the Hokage what _he_ had done.

And _he_ served his punishment.

Regardless, she still missed _him._

She missed his seducing, caressing touch. Those coal and cold black eyes that seemed to tint a delicious crimson when he desired something. His pale skin, hard and smooth. Everywhere. His deep and tense voice that made one – _female, or not_ – go crazy.

So she was intent on visiting _Yanagi_ every day.

Because Sakura _ever so loved_ seeing Sasuke hung and bound to the tree – _their_ tree – for his mad–man crimes.

And she wondered, _Is he even humane?_

_Because she was _certain _he wasn't sane._

_Are you are you coming to the tree,_

Once, she even touched him.

Her finger tips smoothed and skimped over his still strong jaw.

They ever so carefully traveled down his neck, and her fingers stopped in an abrupt halt.

Carefully and quickly, her index finger reached out to touch the rope. Only to have its owner pull it back within seconds with a long hiss.

And one could even say, that the rope _burned_ her.

Regardless, she continued to touch him.

She continued to return to the Willow tree.

Even though, the flames burned ever so_ painfully_ and _intensely_ at her milky, white, and porcelain skin.

_Where I told you to run – _

_ So we'd both be free. _

She could hear him.

Though no sound came out his mouth.

But his voice resonated in her ears, in her head, and it raked down her body.

It horrified her – yet aroused her in such a beautiful way.

She paid no heed to his warnings.

She just enjoyed the feeling of his voice once more.

It made her core throb and her heart pound.

As she layed sprawled over the grass, in front of him, her fingers tweaking and thrusting; her mouth nibbling and whimpering, she could only hear his deep, strained voice.

_Strange things did happen here – _

_No stranger would it seem_

She had given herself to him.

The night before he was executed.

No–one knew – no–one _knows._

After all, they did it on the Willow tree.

The one she loved – the one she _loves _– ever so _desperately._

Everything was a blur.

Hands moved in and out; up and down; even twisted and turned.

His orange breath mingled with her own strawberry scent.

And she remembered vaguely, through their rush of hands and feeling, and touches, and emotions, and screams, and moans, and very foul language – through the passion and pleasure, through the pinch of pain, through the heavy lust and desire

She gave him the softest, yet happiest she had ever given anyone.

_Because she loved his orange scented breath – _

_As well as his cinnamon scented aura. _

_If we met up at midnight in The Hanging Tree_

She finally let her emotion reign free.

The girl clung to the boy so tightly, one could say she was afraid of him disappearing.

Though she knew it was pointless.

Regardless, she clung to him – the Uchiha – and racked and sobbed desperately. She whimpered and screamed and pounded and kicked – though it all did her no good. Her bottom lip quivered as her attempt to stop crying failed.

_Epically. _

And the tree gently smoothed her over.

The tree's comforting presence coaxed her into forgetting.

Into the old days.

Into a _deep_ and _very much needed_ sleep.

_Sasuke had thanked the tree that night_.

_Are you are you coming to the tree,_

This was her last visit.

It had to be.

It _needed_ to be.

Otherwise, she'd slowly break down.

And _no_ amount of time would heal her.

But only worsen her wound –

Her _wounds._

The Haruno sighed softly and sat down on her knees in front of the boy. She bowed her head and paid him the respects her didn't deserve. She got up and got comfortable – this would be their last day together; she wanted it to last for as long as it could.

She talked to him for hours. Never getting a reply, but knowing exactly what he would say – or did she? Her gaze trailed from him, to the field, and finally to the flowers. Then to the tree, and back to his eternally sleeping, peaceful face. She gave him a soft smile as the sun lowered itself unto the Horizon. She clenched her fists and stood. She walked straight up to him and did something she's never have the courage to do.

Her warm lips pressed against his cold ones. She felt tingly. And the feeling was immediately burned into her mind forever. She gave the Willow tree a pat, and then walked away into the field – towards the Village.

And she thought, maybe – just maybe – this was enough to heal her.

_Though she already knew it wasn't._

_Wear a necklace of rope side by side with me._

The rope was wrapped in her hands.

She'd tug at and play with it for minutes after minutes.

The girl had gone back on her word.

She came back to him.

She came back to their field.

_And she had decided that he had waited long enough._

_Strange things did happen here – _

_No stranger would it seem._

She tied it to the tree branch beside him.

She made a whole for her head with the other side of the rope and gently placed it around her throat.

_She could tell it was close to midnight. _

_If we met up at midnight_

With a fair amount of force she tugged.

The air was gone from her body, and her lungs were contracting and squeezing – a torturing fate, yet one of the quickest ways.

_It was all for him._

_In The Hanging Tree_

Sakura Haruno gave an enlightened gasp as she ran into the arms of Sasuke Uchiha. Naruto hugged her from behind, and Kakashi and Sai got her sides.

They were all so damned self–fish.

But they couldn't help it.

_Tears traced down cheeks upon cheeks as the rain seemed to cover their tracks._


End file.
